The Astral Revolution
by TheMuse5
Summary: Valentina Visconti-Leone is not a 'good' person. As the daughter of a warlord and the widow of an infamous revolutionary leader, she never had the luxury. However, when her cousin Albus uses his considerable resources and power to keep her at Hogwarts, she travels down a dangerous path of politics, romance, friendships, and revolutions, making one renown genius as her enemy...
1. Chapter 1

A fat old man was staring at me and he didn't seem very pleased with my attire— or my attitude, for that matter. Ignoring him might not have been the best idea but it hadn't stopped me from pointedly looking beyond him for the last half hour. It wasn't very hard, considering there was a plethora of unending odd, colorful objects in the grand, ornate office— the things of myths and childish dreams, really. A crystal ball in a diamond case, different crested knight's armor, portraits that moved, quills that wrote without prompting, and piles, stacks, _mountains_ of yellowed, ancient looking parchment. Magic seemed so much more _commercial_ here. It certainly wasn't like this in Italy.

What caught my attention was not what was on the inside of this packed, colorful room though. In the back of the office, a large circular window exposed the most brilliant night sky I had ever laid eyes upon. If only I could touch that night.

I looked at the mass of blubber in clothes before me, currently pretending to read some old parchment on his desk while keeping an eye on me out of his peripheral. Internally, I scoffed. This old fart wasn't going to stop me. Slowly standing up, feeling his eyes trace my rising form the whole time, I strolled around his desk, up the elaborate stone staircase and approached the magnificent view. To my surprise, it was not just a window but a tunnel, surrounded by clear magnifying glass. It was a dark hole, the heart of night sucking me into a world beyond walls and flashlights and civilization. How I ached to step forward into the tunnel and become one with the stars.

Alas, the tub of the man chose that moment to break our not-so-amicable silence. "Young lady, please return to your seat."

Pulling out of the meager reserve of energy I had long ago set aside for unimportant strangers, I forced my lip to curl upwards and managed to answer not as passive aggressively as I felt. "Of course. And you are?"

A lovely shade of puce colored his chubby, wrinkled face, telling me that my voice must have dripped with the disdain I had been halfheartedly trying to keep at bay.

"I'll have you know Miss...Visconti, is it?... that you are speaking to the undisputed leader of this great institute and the owner of the office you have been standing in for the past half hour, so I would mind your manners if I were you," he responded heatedly.

"Leone," I corrected.

He blanched. "Pardon?"

"My surname is Leone, sir," I replied casually, waving a hand in dismissal. "Although I don't fault you for not knowing. The marriage was never recognized by my father." I received a curious glance and plowed forward into conversation, not wishing to discuss the topic further. "Anyways, it's a pleasure to meet you. You seem like a decent enough type. Excuse my temperament; I'm not myself. Now, if you wouldn't mind me asking, what's your actual name? You look like a Pete."

He bristled, his whiskers giving him the appearance of an angry walrus. Just as he seemed to cool down enough to form words, a firm, deep voice interrupted the quiet of the office.

"Valentina?" I cringed, recognizing the distinct voice with the British accent that had plagued me my whole life. Whenever I had been about to do something even remotely unruly during my childhood that brusque, British quip of my name had stopped me in my tracks. Only in my head, of course. God forbid I ever received validation I hadn't been crazy.

Long ago, I had stopped paying attention to that voice, but it had gotten harder later. Especially since it had been incessantly lecturing me to come to London for the past month in that deep, authoritative tone it had. Curious, I had listened, but not without making a couple, ah, road stops on the way. I nearly chuckled, thinking of how much sterner that voice got with every stop I had made. Now to hear it in person…

Slowly, I walked forward, descending the stairs, spotting a looming figure by the entrance of the office. He had long auburn hair, carried himself with pristine posture, and wore the most horrendous wine-colored dress I had ever seen. His light blue eyes were simply shocking, managing to pierce me in their intensity, like I could see both his soul and his mind swallowing me in through his fiercely exposing gaze. Judging from the wrinkles around his eyes, I aged him to be at least fifty, perhaps a bit older. It was difficult to tell his age since he had a spirit about him that was so vivacious and timeless, not to mention how his good looks softened time's toll. All of this, and after looking at the sly curve of his lips and the proud angle of his clean-shaven jaw, one word rang true in my mind: _arrogant_.

He proved me right with the next words out of his lips. "My dear, how nice to finally meet you in person, although I dare say I already know you better than any person you may have already met."

He was joking, of course. But only partly.

"Who," I gritted, "in the name of everything holy, are you, you intrusive Brit?"

The man's eyes sparkled at my tone, undoubtedly expecting my temper. However, my new, oh-so-important teacher friend lost his calm, jumping out of his desk in outrage. "How dare you speak to the great Albus Dumbledore that way, young lady! This is not America. You will mind your manners in this office, Miss Visconti."

"Leone," I cut in dismissively.

An unrestrained growl rolled out of the teacher's hairy lips, vibrating the flubber on his neck.

"Armando," the redhead known as 'the great Albus Dumbledore' stepped in. I nearly gawaffed at the name but managed to reel it into a snort. "Excuse my cousin please, she's been through much. She has just experienced a terrible death in the family."

At this, so many emotions hit me at once— anger at his pity, horror at the reminder, fear at how much he knew, and most of all shock at..."Cousin?" I gaped.

"Indeed," he answered pleasantly in that irritating accent. "And, if I may say, how very unlike your mother you look."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the enlightenment." I had heard that nearly all my life. My mother had been a fair skinned, scarlet-haired woman with a tall, lanky form and a dainty look about her. From the top of my dark auburn hair to the bottom of my brash, combat boots, nothing in my five-foot frame truly reflected the long deceased Anastasia Arabella Visconti. Not even my personality. I only held faint traces of her, like the delicate, pointed facial features, the slightly lighter skin tone than my father's, the tone of red in my dark hair, and, most importantly, the existence of some sort of morals, though ruthlessly suppressed, running through my veins.

Needless to say, as of three weeks ago, I have much preferred the usually undesirable genes of my warlord father, despite the strange colored eyes and distinct aristocratic stigma that they burdened me with.

Speaking of which…"My father said everyone in her family was dead."

"Valentina," Albus said softly, as if to a child. "I sincerely hope you've learned, intelligent girl you are, never to trust a word that comes from that man's mouth unless he has nothing invested in it, which, most times, is not the case."

I frowned. Of course I did not trust him. In fact, I suspected him for a great number of things, including the crime I had decided to build my future life around— not that I had much of a choice in the matter— and if my father was responsible for that, he was a dead man walking, blood or not.

"So, what?" I challenged, leaning against the handrail of the staircase, crossing my arms. "I'm just supposed to believe your claims that I'm your long lost cousin?"

The man, Albus, seemed suitably irritated at that, breaking his thus far pleasant demeanor with a slight purse of his lips. "As you know, I've been watching over you since you were a child. You are my only living relative besides my brother Aberforth. Why else would I possibly do that?" he asked a bit exasperatedly.

Scowling, I folded my arms over my chest. "I don't know why psychopaths do half of what they do, but that doesn't make them any less dangerous," I responded airily, mimicking the tone _he_ had taught me when he was interrogating a new recruit. Its effect had always left the subject wanting to prove him or herself to him, at any cost. He had been a master of manipulation that way, infamous for it, in fact. They had called him Orpheus in the underground because, as rumor claimed, he could manipulate any instrument to play his tune. That is, before he met his siren and lost control of the music, letting his lady control his tune, luring him deep into the sea.

I shuddered. The nickname he had gifted me years ago had turned out to be too accurate for comfort.

The walrus of a man, Armando, shifted uncomfortably at his desk, drawing my eyes to him. I had forgotten he was in the room, having been so focused on Albus. Something my supposed cousin had said earlier came back to me about personal interests.

"Armando, is it?" I asked drily, mirroring his words earlier. He flushed.

"That's Headmaster Dippet to you, young lady," he corrected.

"Yes, of course, forgive me," I replied speedily. "If I may ask, what is your business here?"

He spluttered like a fish, his face slowly regaining that lovely shade of puce that had clung to his cheeks earlier. I could practically hear the blood rush angrily to his head. "Why—This is my office! Albus! Discipline your cousin! I will not have this!"

A laugh bubbled out of my chest before I could stop it. " _Discipline_ me? I'm not a child, sir."

"No! But you are a lady and you will act like one or I will insist you leave my school at once!" Once again, I nearly laughed but restrained myself as something clicked in place.

"My apologies, Headmaster Dippet," I replied smoothly and without an ounce of sincerity. I'd be damned if I didn't see Albus' eyes twinkle. "I understand this is your office. I was merely curious as to why my _cousin_ chose to have our reunion in your presence."

The walrus of a man huffed, slightly placated but still clearly miffed. From his desk, he picked up a fancy looking stick and raised it slowly, frowning at it as if he had just remembered something important in relation to it.

"Actually, Miss Visconti," he started slowly, but without hostility. It took everything in me not to correct the name, but since he held no animosity I figured he must have forgotten. "I am here to verify that you are, indeed, Albus' cousin. You see, no offense to you, but I don't want anyone on the school premises if I don't know exactly who they are. It's a matter of safety, you must understand."

I tilted my head, watching in curiosity as he played with the stick. Is that what I thought it was?

"Yes, I understand," I answered honestly. "And no offense taken. This is actually to both of our benefit. However, how do I know this magic test of yours is legitimate?"

"You would not," Albus' firm, clear voice interrupted. "Nor would I expect you to. Although hope and expectations are two different things, and I did dearly hope you had come to see me as family, even subconsciously, after all those years I had intervened on your behalf."

His sky blue eyes dripped with something akin to disappointment, but I did not have it in me to feel guilty. I would not apologize for being cautious. "Technically, in order to have _seen_ you as family, I would have had to actually _see_ you, don't you agree?"

The humor wasn't lost on him. He laughed, although still looking a bit put out. "That is fair. May the Headmaster begin the diagnostic while I present to you the evidence of our kinship?"

I nodded, barely sparing a glance as the wizard by the desk began to swish his wand in my direction and a faint glow lit my skin. My entire attention was on Albus. From the pocket of his wine-colored dress, he pulled out a file— Lord knows how it fit in there— and handed it over to me.

"This, dear cousin," he explained, "is an official government documentation of our family tree. You'll see that your mother is on there as well as me. Also in this file is a blood test comparison of both of our samples, a picture of your mother and I when we were young and another when we were older, and last but not least a portfolio of all the letters she ever sent me, regarding her life with your father, her life before him, and, most of all, you."

I stared, amazed, grabbing the file from him and greedily thumbing through. I remembered what her handwriting looked like. It was one of the last things of her I truly remembered vividly. She always dotted her 'i' with two dots instead of one for some reason. If I could just get to the letters he had and see…

Hope rose up within me. The 'i' in 'Valentina,' God bless, had two dots on it. That's all I had to see.

Looking up to my cousin in a new light, I smiled, wrapping my arms around Albus. We were family, truly family. I was not alone anymore! Tears welled down my face. I had thought I was alone forever.

He hugged me back gently, rubbing my back in circles as my joyful tears turned into ugly sobs. Soon, my entire frame was shaking with the weight of what my life had become in just a mere few weeks.

I was a widow.

My father was my remaining family and that was only until I killed him.

I had a cousin, a very interesting one at that.

I pulled away, startling out of my tears as the last resolution truly took hold in me once and for all. "Albus Dumbledore," I tasted out the name on my lips. I had a feeling I would be hearing and saying that name a lot from now on. Afterall, his was the name that had changed everything. "So is it true then? My mother asked you to protect me and that's why you've been annoying me all these years?" I asked, remembering the contents of the letter he had shown me.

My cousin's handsome face distorted into concern for a moment before something slightly more powerful grappled for control— excitement. His eyes were practically alight with the idea of me accepting my magic. Perhaps he was lonely and felt he couldn't connect to me until I accepted who I was and entered this strange world of his. Perhaps, but not likely. Humor entered those sky blue eyes and I had the faintest suspicion he could see what I had just thought. He seemed to find my defensiveness entertaining for some reason.

"Truly."

"My father never told me about this, though I suppose he might not have known," I muttered, thinking aloud. "My father—"

"Is a powerful, dangerous wizard," Albus finished gently. "He comes from a long line of powerful, dangerous wizards. It is doubtful he would want you to know about me since I have very different political views than he and most pureblood wizards like him. So did your mother."

I laughed harshly, reluctant understanding overtaking me. "Of course, no wonder he hated Nic so much with his extensive ties to Britain. He must have been worried he knew you. Although, I suppose there were other reasons." This was just another motive my father had for murder if I was right.

"Yes," Albus agreed. "I have it on good authority that there were other reasons indeed, but preserving the sanctity of the family line was the main one. Niccolo Leone, the infamous Orpheus of the rebel movement, was many things Valentina, and one of them was muggle-born. You aren't your father's only child, or even his heir, but unfortunately you are his favorite and always have been. That means he would want the very best for you, which, in his mind means a pureblood. He despises muggle-borns both politically and in actuality. However, his favor towards you remained, and perhaps even strengthened, after your elopement and recruitment to the revolution. I daresay, no matter what you do, you always will be his favorite and have to deal with the scrutiny that follows."

I shook my head, bitterly pulling away from Albus and leaning back against the wall, suddenly wishing to be alone. The anger was bubbling up again and once it did I was hopeless to stop it until I could express it somehow. Before I could restrain myself the words popped up into my mouth. "Let's see if I'm still his favorite when he's staring down the end of my gun and saying his last words."

Albus's intense blue gaze burned through my mind, seemingly trying to weigh whether I meant what I had threatened. "I daresay you will be, but let's hope you never test the theory," he replied firmly.

I glared at him. "You do understand," I ground out, "that that man is at least 90%, more likely than not fully, responsible for my husband's murder, don't you?"

He watched me carefully before responding, his voice acquiring that soft patronizing tone he had used earlier. "What happened to your husband was a terrible tragedy, Valentina, and he will never before forgotten." I heard a but in his tone and I was ready to slap some sense into him before I even heard his next words. "However, do you think patricide is truly the answer?" The unflinching haze I met him with said yes so he hurried on. "I doubt that is something your husband would have wished for you."

It took everything in me not to slap him for his words, for saying aloud the thing I had refused to acknowledge thus far. I forced the rage to subside because a nagging voice in the back of my mind— separate from his, of course, though Albus' annoying British accent had been protesting the idea ever since I first started drawing my father's attention weeks ago— telling me something along the same lines.

"He would not have wished for me to be a widow either," I hissed.

He nodded sadly. "I understand, Valentina. Yet, things will never work out for the two of you as you may have once dreamed. That does not mean you must be miserable. He would not have wanted that for you, and I fear killing your father may do just that."

With new eyes, I considered Albus Dumbledore. Now that I knew of our relation, I realized that he held a passing resemblance to my mother with his red hair, delicate features, fair complexion and tall, gangly frame. Judging by his last few comments, their likeness ran deeper from just mere appearance, though. As much I had loved my mother, she had always been a strict, unbending moralist. My father's men spoke constantly of it, mixed adoration and distaste in their voices. Unfortunately, her cousin seemed to share in my mother's incessant morality.

Then again, I suppose we all do to a certain extent. I've talked to the roughest of criminals in the Italian underground; we all hear the little voice.

Perhaps, it would be more precise to say that my cousin shared in my mother's irritating compulsive need to _listen_ to it. Now that was unique.

A hesitant cough interrupted my thoughts, and I whipped my head to see the walrus professor. I had completely forgotten he had been there the whole time. I scowled, hoping he hadn't been eavesdropping, but from the clearly uncomfortable and slightly pitying look on his face he definitely had been.

"All done, my dear," Dippet said, clearing his throat and adjusting his wand into its holster. "It seems you are, indeed, Albus' cousin. Therefore you are welcome to stay under his protection in the castle as long as you please, but do try to avoid contact with the students. A young lady such as yourself would cause quite the uproar among the...ah... _curious_ ones, especially the seventh years and I don't wish to have anything unseemly going on within grounds."

I smirked a bit at what he was implying, but it didn't reach my eyes, my mind still on Albus' words. "That's something you won't have to worry about, sir. I _do_ have standards, and I highly doubt your students would meet a single one, much less all."

His fleshy cheeks flushed crimson. "Yes, well… keep it that way." Poor man. "I bid you goodnight, Miss Vis— Miss Leone, Albus." He bowed a bit, retreating into a room behind the office. "I know you have much to talk about. Stay as long as you wish, but do close the door on your way out."

Oddly, the fat old man had redeemed nearly an hour of despicableness in less than a minute. Yes, Headmaster Dippet and I would be friends, I decided. An impressive feat, considering I could decide on very little these days.


	2. Chapter 2

I sighed, walking away from my cousin and all the intensity surrounding our conversation. Climbing up the stairs, I headed for the little starry tunnel again, yearning to simply disappear into it and never come back, just spend the rest of my existence floating freely, one with the stars of heaven.

No one ever questioned my love for celestial beauty, but their eyes did, just as Albus' did at that very moment. I could feel them piercing into my back. The truth was that if asked, I would not know how to answer. Sure, my mind toyed with the concept of astronomy just like any other field, however it was my soul that kept me coming back to windows at the night time. My soul: something I knew dangerously little about. In a world so dark, it liked to hide.

"Don't overestimate me Albus," I said quietly, staring out into the beautiful night sky again. "My conscience is no house cat, trembling at the prospect of killing. It is a lion, and it will swallow that snake whole if that's what it takes to rid the world of his slithering."

"My dear," he replied, a smile in his voice, making me turn in at his sudden mood swing. "You have no _idea_ how fitting your analogy just was." The twinkle in his eyes told me I was about to find out. "Come here, Valentina," he said, gesturing to the desk the headmaster had sat at just a few moments before.

Sighing, I complied, my eyes adjusting to the unpleasantly bright light of the office. Strolling down the steps, I noted how he sat in Dippet's seat and looked at home. Interesting. I wondered if my cousin was half as ambitious as I was.

On the desk sat an ancient, dirty, pointy mass of brown fabric. The stereotypical witch hat.

I snorted. "Don't tell me you have _brooms_ too, Albus."

He smiled. "As a matter of fact, it does, my dear. It provides quite interesting conversation, too." I blinked. "But I don't want to overwhelm you. What I want to tell you about now is the very ground your feet are resting upon, the greatest wizarding school in Britain, Europe and probably the whole world. Formed by four legendary wizards in the darkest of the Dark Ages, this school remains as the only consistent symbol of power for the wizarding community in Britain during those violent and uncertain times. The four founders created houses to place the school population into, hoping to draw out certain traits among their respective students. Salazar Slytherin valued ambition, Godric Gryffindor prized bravery, Rowena Ravenclaw emphasized intelligence, and Helga Hufflepuff prioritized fairness."

I pondered his words, staring at the dumpy looking hat on his desk. "And how did they manage to pick who went where? I sincerely hope the students had a say. Only they would have known best where they belonged."

"In a sense," he replied, shifting his attention to the hat. I paused, then laughed.

"Wait a minute!" I gasped. "Don't tell me this frumpy little hat has been controlling the fate of these students all these years…?"

He smiled a bit at my laughter, but answered solemnly. "Yes, the hat can see into your mind, weigh your strengths and weaknesses, and speak out to which which house you belong. It may or may not be flawed but it has worked out in the student's best interest each time. Perhaps not for the best of the general public but always for the student."

I looked at my cousin carefully as the easygoing light left his eyes, replacing its glittering blue with a dark, marble intensity. His mouth turned taut as he shifted his gaze from the hat to a miniature golden statue of a snake sitting on the corner of Dippet's desk. I had always had a knack for understanding people's emotions— Nic had told me it was part of my magic, but I had never taken him seriously, thinking he was merely being romantic until now. At that moment, there seemed to be an invisible fire of some sort of emotion emanating from Albus as he continued to glare at the statue. The pressure of it was consuming me, slowly turning my vision fuzzy, until, finally, it yielded, and he turned back to look at me with eyes clear as day again.

Dear lord, that man felt heavily.

I stared at the incriminating figurine of the snake that had caused the little drama to unfold. Its eyes held little emeralds and the golden body was coiled around a clock. "Albus?"

"Yes, Valentina?" he replied pleasantly as though his mood hadn't plummeted into an emotional abyss the likes of which I had never felt.

"I can feel emotions," I said carefully, not wishing to upset him. "I don't wish to, they are forced upon me. And the emotion you just felt as you looked at that serpent statue was deeply disturbing."

I did not ask a question, but it was there nonetheless.

His pretty blue eyes nearly popped out of their head at my confession, contrasting starkly against his flushed face. In that moment he reminded me of a little boy. "Valentina! Do you know how special that gift is? A natural empath hasn't been documented for _decades_. Even if you do decidedly nothing with your life, you will go down in history! Along with your family line."

Raising a brow, I smirked. Not bad. Of course, I'd accept nothing less than going down in history regardless of special hereditary talents, but it was good to have this little assurance.

"Good to know," I replied drily. "Now don't avoid the subject. What did the little snake do to you? And does this have anything to do with your reaction to my analogy earlier?"

Albus sighed, leaning back in Dippet's seat, folding his long hands in resignation. "In a sense. Each house has a mascot of sorts. Hufflepuff has the badger, Ravenclaw has the eagle, Gryffindor has the lion, and Slytherin has the snake."

I nodded, wondering which Slytherin had pissed my cousin off. Just when I was about to ask, he blurted out—

"There was a boy."

He struggled for words, overcome by emotion and I shifted under the weight of it, hoping with all my might that this wasn't some illicit teacher-student love story he was about to tell me. I tried to read into the emotional bond he held with the aforementioned boy, and I was reassured to find that there wasn't a shred of romance there: only suspicion, dislike, pity, disgust, anger, and, dare I say it, _hate_.

How intriguing. It seemed my cousin was a tad bit darker than I had believed.

"A boy named Tom, though his name isn't important anymore; he's formed himself a new one. He used to be a student here, top of his class. Very popular, very handsome. Unbelievably magnetic. People of all personalities, genders, and houses would swarm to him for different reasons. He was unbelievably intelligent, too. A prodigy, in fact. However, that was overshadowed by his other compelling qualities. Overall, he was a source of pure, unadulterated flame among people with minds like moths. Hypnotized by his fire, his passion, people of all ages blindly followed him after knowing him for only just a short time, looking for purpose, I assume. Isn't that what we all do?"

I leaned in, my own fire inside of me undeniably ignited at the description of this mysterious boy. Just hearing about him made something in my chest squeeze and my blood quicken. Knowing from Albus' use of past tense this story could only go one of two ways, I stared down my cousin, eager to hear whether this mysterious boy had followed the path of fallen angel or martyrdom.

"No one saw how truly dangerous he was," Albus continued heatedly. "No one but me. Now they certainly do, but it's too late now." Ah, the fallen angel it is, then. "He used Hogwarts as power base during his years here, forming alliances and plotting out his rise to power, which commenced shortly after he graduated. For two years he disappeared after graduation, leaving no word to anyone and not choosing a career, surprising many, but not I; he hardly needs a career when he is planning on becoming a dictator."

An incredulous laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. "A _dictator_? That's ambitious even for _me_."

Albus shook his head stubbornly. "Not for him, though." I began to protest but he cut me off. "Anything less would have been a complete waste of his talents in his eyes. He was the heir of Slytherin and he was positive that made him fit to rule the world. There were rumors that the boy spent his two years off somewhere in Albania, making an alliance with the vampires."

So the arrogant boy had ambitions to take over a country, I mused. I might not have known much about this new world of magic and ancient schools, but I knew dictators. Perhaps better than anything else in this world. And I knew how to overthrow them. It's practically what my marriage had been based around.

"You talk about him in past tense," I questioned.

"Yes," he said, nodding sadly. "I fear the boy I knew, as unpleasant and corrupted as he was, is forever gone and replaced by a far worse creature."

"Oh? Dramatic," I said with a smile. "And this new creature is…?"

"Voldemort."

Despite myself, I shuddered at the name. Perhaps it was Albus' tone or his emotions, but the room seemed to take on a chill as it hung in the air.

"How old is he now?" I asked, unable to assume the same casual tone as before.

He frowned, as if he hadn't considered that important. "Well, let's see," he mused. "He graduated in 1943 and— what year is it now?"

I laughed a bit, bringing some of the lightness back to the room. "1952."

"Ah, yes! So 26, I suppose then," he responded. "Though age hardly matters. He has taken measures to ensure he never dies or ages, you see."

I gaped. "That's possible?" There was much I had to learn about magic.

"No! I mean, yes, technically, but it shouldn't be. It's dark magic."

I frowned. "How am I supposed to know what is and isn't dark magic?"

He pondered for a moment and then answered with a wisdom beyond himself, beyond mankind in general, but of something as ancient as the stars in the sky: "I suppose darkness can be distinguished as anything that goes against the laws of nature and existence, the way things are supposed to be."

Thinking on that, I sat back in my chair, once again staring at the little golden serpent. Then, for reasons unknown to me, I felt the need to look back at the stars. They had always helped me refocus on true reality. "But, Albus, how do you know all magic isn't dark then? None of it exactly fits into the laws of nature."

He frowned, but then laughed a bit, dismissing it. "You make quite the philosopher, little cousin. To answer your question, although I'm sure it won't satisfy you, I believe the laws of nature are something you just know in your gut. Like your conscience. Each person can feel whether something is right or wrong and we all pretty much agree upon it, despite our different cultures or upbringings. That's how we know that goodness, as well as nature, is encoded within us, though I suppose they are one in the same."

I shook my head. "But that's not true. We all have different moral compasses as well as different ideas about the laws of nature."

"Do we, though?" asked Albus, raising a brow. "Or do we all feel the same truths, but choose to live in varying degrees of denial?"

My mind and heart alike stopped at this response, something about his words resonating within the depths of my soul. It was one of those moments I just knew I would remember forever, whether for better or worse.

"With that in mind," he continued, not seeming to realize my little epiphany. "Don't spend time worrying about how to know when your about to cross the line to the Dark Arts. You'll know. Everyone does. Just stay honest with yourself and it'll never be a problem."

He made it sound so simple. What a moralist.

In order to avoid answering him, I did what I do best; changed the subject.

"Alright," I said with a sigh. "So where's this little dictator now and will he become a problem in the near future?"

Albus looked almost offended by that, but then smoothed out his face. "I forget you are not knowledgeable of this world. My dear, he already is a problem. Very much so. He has infiltrated nearly every branch of the ministry and by acting as Head Diplomat, he has been able to exponentially widen his following base by making allies both at home and abroad. Unofficially, attacks on muggleborns have already started. Not to mention, he is an extremely handsome man and I fear to see what he will be able to do with the backing of some unwitting heiress' fortune behind him."

I blinked. "Slow down. I have so many questions. First, what is the ministry? Second, why is he attacking muf? And third, is he engaged?"

My cousin answered concisely, thankfully. "First, the wizarding government. Second, an anti-muggleborn, pro-pureblood platform is how he is expanding his influence and power, though I'm sure in actuality he could care less about the cause. Third, not yet but it's only a matter of time. Although he's never expressed any emotional interest in the opposite sex as far as I've heard, I'm sure he has basic needs like any other human being, and who better to fulfill them than a wife? Especially when he can be getting money out of her to further his plans."

For some reason, I had a strong sense that my cousin was wrong in his evaluation on that front. This Tom-Voldemort character did not seem the type to marry for convenience. Any sort of convenience. In fact, he didn't seem like the type to marry at all. Although marriage made you stronger in some aspects, it also made you weaker in others, and I highly doubted this man would consider anything a woman could bring to the table to be worth losing even an ounce of power or authority over.

"Is this man the reason you were so eager for me to come straight to London after Nic died?"

Albus scowled at me, as if remembering something especially unpleasant. "No, Valentina," he answered sternly. "And don't play coy. You know exactly why I sent for you."

I smiled widely. "If plans for patricide is what got your knickers in a twist— "

"We both know very well they were not mere plans," he snapped. "By the time I had intervened, you had already killed six of your father's men and seduced four to get intel on what had happened that night."

"So?" I challenged, nearly standing up. "I have a right to find his killer, Albus. He was my _husband_."

"Exactly!" he argued. "He was your _husband_. He would not have wanted you to put yourself in danger, much less seduce men not even a month after his death."

"Do not judge me for what I had to do to get information," I retorted heatedly. "He would have understood. Lord knows he's seduced more women in a _week's_ time to get intel on Grindelwald's movements."

The look on my cousin's face was predictably one of shock, disgust, and pity.

"Besides," I hurried onwards more gently. "You did not know him. He would have commended me for what I did. Danger, in light of a noble cause, was the glue that held our marriage together."

Albus studied me carefully and I could practically see him trying to tear open my mind with his eyes alone, wondering what my marriage and the man Niccolo Leone had truly been like. I was surprised he didn't already know considering all the time he had spent in my head.

To my surprise, he answered me. "Sometimes I'm able to look into your thoughts when I deliver a message through legilimens, but it's only the forefront of what you're thinking. It doesn't tell me much, especially since the forefront of what your thinking almost always changes to annoyance when I begin to speak."

I furrowed my brows and then a thought came to me. "Were you doing that just now?"

"Yes," he replied, but hurried to defend himself. "You must understand, though, Valentina, your thoughts kind of just jump out when you're feeling a particularly passionate emotion."

"Great," I huffed. "So now I won't be able to feel emotion without worrying about a bunch of nosy wizards wondering what's up."

He laughed. "Not to worry, my dear. Legilimens isn't a common skill and only a master would have the luxury of being nosy over something so trivial as a young lady's mood swings."

"Trivial?" I snorted "You have no idea what my mood swings can accomplish."

"No," he answered seriously, his disapproval returning. "No, I'm sure I don't."

I sighed sitting back in my seat and looking at him through tired, lidded eyes. I wanted to rest; I hadn't had a proper night's sleep since I raced to America the night of Nic's death. If leveling with him on my plans for future murder would grant me access to a warm, soft bed quicker then that's exactly what I would do.

"Listen, Albus," I said slowly. "I've heard your name before. The great Albus Dumbledore who defeated the Russian bastard who is the magic equivalent to the muggle's Hitler. Your huge. A walking legend. Of course, I never put a face to the name or knew that you were my cousin, but I knew that much about you. Everyone does. Now, my husband dedicated his life to bringing Grindelwald and his Italian compatriots. Given time, he would have fought to free every country in the world from their respective Grindelwalds. Because that's who he was— a fighter, and a noble one at that. A liberator. A voice and fist for the downtrodden." Tears came to my eyes at the thought. "He may have been my childhood love, but he was also much more than that. Who he was, what he represented—" my voice cracked. "He was salvation, for so many. Like you."

Albus' mouth was taut and his eyes had a suspicious glean to them.

I continued, "He may not have been exactly like you. I admit, he didn't play very nice. But he was like you in _so many ways_ , and even though Grindelwald was defeated, Italy remains in ruins, corruption flowing through the veins of the city thicker than blood. People _needed_ him. They still do. He had work to do. But his time was cut short and now he's dead, killed by the very people he was fighting to rid them of, leaving behind _millions_ to fend for themselves. These people, they need hope and they _deserve_ retribution. Because when my father murdered Niccolo Leone he did not just murder a man— he murdered a nation's salvation. He must answer for not only the man but for the nation. If he doesn't, what does that say to Italy?"

Albus didn't answer but just gazed at me with the most peculiar expression radiating in his sky blue eyes. If I wasn't so tearful myself I would have taken the time to analyze it, but right now I was all passion and words.

"That they're not worthy of salvation," I answered myself heatedly. "That evil will always win, they're suffering will always prevail, and that they are not worthy of a hero or the things that hero can bring: equality, justice, peace, _goodness_." My voice grew hoarse and thick, the emotional and physical exhaustion of the past month catching up with me. "If Niccolo Leone's death goes unpunished and swept under the rug as if it never happened then that's the equivalent of telling the nation that any dreams they had of a better future are as insignificant as the man that was so very nonchalantly murdered. And I will not let that happen. I will not let my husband's death— or life— be in vain, nor the ope of that country."

For the longest time, he didn't respond but merely stared, his eyes two light blue pools of what I recognized as empathy, pride and… _nostalgia_? Interesting. After what seemed like a lifetime he finally said, "I understand, dear cousin. Truly, I do, but there are other ways to justice that don't consist of you murdering your father in cold blood. I know you are no stranger to killing, though I strongly advise you to refrain from repeating the act now that you no longer are fighting for your life, but there is a difference between killing for the sake of survival and killing for the pleasure of revenge. Not to mention, he is your _father_. Do not pretend that means nothing to you."

"It means everything to me," I snapped. He truly had no idea. "Don't you see, this is why I need to be the one to do it."

Albus sighed and shook his head, a condescending frown on his face. "You do not see it now, but the words you are saying though compelling in their rhetoric hold little logistical value. Every argument you make is merely a justification to act on the sweltering rage you feel towards your father and the profound sorrow of losing your husband."

"Are you saying I'm irrational right now?" I demanded heatedly.

"I'm saying," he cut in firmly. "That you are exactly as clearheaded as any young woman who lost her husband barely a month ago would be. Only you have a sharp wit, political vocabulary, unrivaled eloquence, and an extremely advanced magical skill."

"Meaning I'm a loose canon?" My voice was so firy I could practically hear angry loose ember spit out of it.

He paused for a moment before sighing. "Honestly, Valentina? More or less."

There were a thousand vicious comments I wanted to snarl at him, but stuck with the first that came to mind. "I'm leaving."

As I pushed back my chair with a screech and fumed out of the room, I could hear my angry heartbeat in my ears. I did not need him or his approval! I was Valentina, a Visconti, a Leone, a revolutionary, a spy, a rebel, a powerful witch, and a master manipulator. I embodied fire but was as fluent as the rain. Among animals, beasts, and the downtrodden all over the world, I was a queen in my own right. Above all else I followed my heart and my heart said _kill_. And I would not, _not_ let any man, this charming but intrusive cousin included, tell me what to do.

"Valentina," his voice said softly. Like a feather it caressed my tight, angry skin. I didn't turn but I paused. Something about his voice pulled at my heart in a way that demanded an answer.

"Yes?" I gritted.

"You cannot leave," he said gently.

I scoffed. "Watch me, Albus."

"I mean it," he responded even more softly. It was as if he didn't want his next words to be heard. "If you try to cross the lake or the mountain behind the castle, you may just find yourself apparated directly back to this office, requiring an explanation to the headmaster."

Something in my chest tightened at a terrible thought. The 'family diagnostics' Dippet had performed. Oh, how naive of me. I whipped around. "Albus," I hissed. "What did you _do_?"

The auburn-haired man truly seemed sad as he responded, "I did what I promised my favorite cousin all those years earlier; I am protecting her daughter at any cost from becoming her father."

Tears welled in my eyes. I was almost touched and definitely impressed, but also shook by the idea killing him would make me somehow like him. Surely this was different? My soul and I had never been close but surely it wouldn't just abandon me because I took revenge for my husband?

"How long am I stuck here?" I asked, my voice cracked. What would I do here? I couldn't be a student and I doubt I was qualified to teach.

Albus continued to speak gently as if afraid I would break. "As long as it takes for your natural moral compass to regain dominance over your grief-stricken emotional vendetta. The spell will recognize when you reach this point and it won't let you leave a moment earlier." He paused, taking a shaky, deep breath. Obviously, he cared deeply for me and seeing my resigned tears was affecting him as if they were his own. "I would suggest using this as a time of healing, Valentina. You will heal either way if you ever wish to leave, but the more effort you spend on healing initially, the earlier you will not only regain your freedom but feel at peace."

I choked. "I will never feel _at peace_ again."

"You will," he corrected sternly. "But you must fight for it. If you don't, anger and darkness will lead you not only to kill your father but to forever lead an unsatisfied life with a restless, wounded heart." Very real terror filled me at the thought. Even though I despised his words I knew they were true and they hurt all the more because of it. Perhaps that's why he added softly, "You _will_ persevere, Valentina. You will heal. I will force you to. And you will do it _right_."

His words oddly reassured me. The tears in my eyes fogged my vision, but I could have sworn he brushed a few of his own tears away.

I opened myself to somehow respond, but shut it quickly, finding I did not know what to say. I did not know how I felt. I did not know whether I hated or loved him. But then again I suppose that had always been the case with Albus, even when he was merely a detached voice in my mind all those years.

To be completely honest, I did not think his plan would work. I would never get out of Hogwarts, because I no longer believed I had the capacity for the pure goodness he himself held. My conscience had been repressed for so long _everything_ was subjective. To attain morality, _true_ morality, I did not even know where to start.

Once again, he must have read my thoughts because he answered, "Love somebody. Somebody from whom you stand nothing to gain. That's always the first step."

I gaped at him. "That's so vague!"

"Inherently, as humans we know what it means to love," he responded soothingly.

"Do we, though?" I gritted in frustration. "How am I even supposed to find someone worthy to love? I'm stranded with a bunch of strangers in a castle!"

"Everyone is worthy of love, Valentina. That is the point of this exercise, and once you learn that, you'll begin to shift perspective."

I paused for a second and mentally processed that. "You just told me the moral of the first lesson," I deadpanned. "Now I know it. I pass. Level up. What's next?"

He huffed an incredulous laugh to which I glared. "Matters of the soul cannot be learned with mere words and logic. You must comprehend it in a different way."

I fumed. "You are making zero sense."

"You will know what I'm speaking of when you accomplish the first step," he responded kindly. "Until then, you have permission to roam the school as you please, sit in on any classes you like, and research whatever you desire. Headmaster Dippet's been very generous. His only stipulation for you staying here is that you have a part time position here as to not draw undue attention from the council."

Frowning, I thought of my wide skill set. "Fine," I bit out. "What do you have in mind?"

"Ultimately, the decision is yours," he replied genially. "Personally, I thought teaching may be a bit distracting for you on your healing process. Instead, maybe the position of school counselor would suit your purposes better."

I sighed, not thrilled at the idea of listening to the brats all day. But what was the alternative? "Whatever, Albus. But don't expect me to give them dishonest fluff for advice."

"Wonderful!" he said, his eyes twinkling. "The position is yours then. Just a few rules: no suggestions of anything illegal, no sharing information about students with other students or staff, and if someone mentions that they may wish to harm themselves or others you must report it immediately. Understood?"

I rolled my eyes. "Understood." Except really I didn't. This entire situation was way too much to understand. How had I gone from being an invincible warlord's daughter and the widow of a famous revolutionary to a school counselor at some posh British school in less than two hours?

I turned to walk away, my tears dried, but paused. "Are we finished, cousin?"

Damn. I may despise what just happened, but it really was nice being able to call someone not entirely despicable family.

"Yes," Albus replied pleasantly. "Good night, dear."

I smiled a bit, despite myself. "Good night."

And with that I walked off to find the room where, Albus had told me, a soft bed would be waiting. As I passed through the shadowy grounds of the school, which was quite literally a castle, by the way, Albus hadn't been exaggerating, I looked up at the silent wonder of the stars. I fancied they stared right back at me, probably laughing at the predicament I had been thrown into and the undoubtedly wild things I would face during my time here. With a faint smile, I, too, began to laugh, releasing a faint chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Nic would have loved this. Perhaps it was the emotional turbulence of the past month or the unexpected family reunion or the spell binding me to this school, and, by extension, eons of needy kids, but I felt as if something within me had cracked, leaving me all off-balance as a new light seeped in. It wasn't pleasant or unpleasant. It was just _new_. Undiscovered. Unconquered. Fresh. A wicked smirk played on my lips. I did love a challenge, even if the only true person I was challenging was myself and no one could truly testify to the magnitude of my success besides the inconveniently silent vessel of my heart. Still, untraceable journey or not it would be an adventure. And I loved adventures.

Right before I ducked into the ornate door Albus had described, I looked out at the stars once more, pinpointing the brightest one, Sirius, and throwing it a challenging glare. May the adventures begin.


End file.
